


Home

by sinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean - Freeform, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Graphic Description, Implied Violence, M/M, Sam - Freeform, graphic depiction of wound, spnhiatuscreations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinchester/pseuds/sinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has only ever had one home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> A short drabble for the first week of the Tumblr project #spnhiatuscreations. 'Home' is the title of this week's theme.

When Mary had just died, Sam cried. He really cried. In fact, he wouldn't stop crying until he was in Dean's arms. Then, he would sniff a couple of times and just stop, like babies sometimes do. He couldn't sleep without being wrapped in Dean's arms, refused to be fed if it wasn't Dean feeding him, and he didn't smile or do that giggle babies do unless it was Dean who was bouncing him up and down on his knee.

For a while, every child hangs on to their family member's leg during their first few weeks of school because they're scared to be all on their own with 29 other rowdy kids and a big person who was ordering them around. However, Sam refused to even leave the house without Dean, and for the first few months of kindergarten, Sam had to somehow be within reach of Dean or he'd start bawling, even when inside with all the other children. Sam would breathe Dean in, and it would calm him down. Dean had to carry him in his arms to kindergarten every day, with Sam pleading "Dee, don't want to" and Dean reassuring him "'s'okay, m'right here, Sammy. Not gonna leave you." That was the only thing that got Sam through.

In elementary school, Sam first caught on to the idea that he wasn't really going to fit in. This time, he had to be without Dean, and he would gaze out of his own classroom window and into Dean's across the playground, watching his old brother scribble what didn't look like the answers to the maths problems he had to solve at all and more like aggressive drawings of guns into his exercise book. He would focus his eyes on the clock like an inmate counting down the seconds to his release, and then he'd pelt across the tarmac and wait for Dean to emerge from his own classroom, attacking him with a hug once he approached. He would inhale, and it would calm him. "Alright, Sammy. Alright, alright, alright. I'm here, now, 'kay, Sammy? I'm right here." Dean would urge as Sam would bury his face into his older brother's shirt.

 

By middle school, Sam was a little more sure of himself. Well, he had no choice other than to be a little more confident, because Dean had already hit freshman year by the time he reached middle school. Having his brother further away from him for 6 hours a day than he had ever been threw Sam off. A lot. Still, he wanted to make Dean proud, and he reckoned Dean would be proud if he took it on the chin and marched through it. In fact, it was at this point that Sam discovered his love for learning; he distracted himself from Dean's absence by putting his head down, literally and figuratively, and getting on with his school work; he found that once he started pay attention, he didn't want to stop, because it really was fascinating, the whole 'learning thing'. Above everything, he did it for the look on Dean's face when he would run towards him at home time, waving a test he'd got a great score on around in the air, just waiting for Dean to take it from his hands so he could squeeze him tight and scrunch his nose up against his brother's jacket. 

When the time to go to high school rolled around for Sam, everything seemed much larger and much more frightening. He would often find himself backed into a corner by over-compensating-ly masculine bullies in the toilets, or hiding out in his English teacher's classroom reading a book at lunch time to avoid the arse-kicking he would undoubtedly get by the homophobes who found him an easy target, having labelled him 'faggot' before he even had the opportunity to introduce himself to them. It was at high school where Sam also had the shocking revelation that Dean had an extremely hard time, too - before long, Dean was failing almost all of his classes because he just couldn't stare at a piece of paper with a load of numbers and letters swimming, near impossible to figure out, before him, and proclaim himself driven. In fact, it was the moments where Sam and Dean would be squashed up in the Impala moving on to the next town, or sprawling out on the sofa fighting for leg space (they were both gangly as hell by the time Sam was 14), that were the moments Sam lived for. It was then that he caught the unmistakable scent of Dean, and felt sane - as if everything would soon become 'normal'.

 

The time Sam was 16 and Dean was 20 and Dean ended up kissing Sam for the first time and Sam had hot flashes in his stomach... that was the first time he had called his older brother "Dee" for around a decade. It was also the first time Sam pressed his forehead against Dean's, eyes closed, and just drank Dean's smell in, without having to form an excuse. 

In the months that followed, whenever Sam and Dean would lazily make out in their empty, hot to the point of a sauna-like motel living room, Sam would not only be desperately grabbing at his older brother wherever and whenever he could, but he would also take that opportunity to truly breathe his brother in, and he smelled so good. Better than he ever had before, somehow.

The first time Dean ever sat his Sammy on his lap, Sam's back against his chest, and 'took care of Sam', stroking up and down his shaft, pausing to rub circles with his thumb in all the spots he knew to be sensitive, murmuring how beautiful his Sammy was into his ear, Sam shook as he came, whining and gasping. He jerked his head back, breathing in so hard and smelling Dean so vividly it almost didn't hurt all over his body to come so hard.

The first time Dean ever blew Sam, Sam's hair falling in his face, his breath coming hot and fast as Dean devoured his long cock like a man starved, not even the strange and surreal smell of come smeared over Dean's mouth when he rose up to kiss his Sammy could mask the unmistakable aroma of him. 

The night Sam turned 18, when Dean finally, finally took Sam, slicking him up and pushing in ever so gently so as not to hurt his baby brother, Dean immediately nuzzled his face into the crook of Sam's neck. Whether it was actually to place sloppy, wet kisses on his shoulder or secretly to ensure his gasps didn't make him sound like he didn't know what he was doing (which he was didn't), Sam didn't seem to mind, as his nose was close enough to Dean's hair to inhale his scent, if only slightly muffled by excessive hair gel, so he wasn't too overwhelmed by how perfect it all was and how much Dean would've teased him if he'd said that out loud. Dean's smell grounded him when all he wanted to do was cry out so loud their father would undoubtedly come running.

 

The night before Sam left for Stanford, he spent the entire time he was supposed to be asleep gently stroking his brother's hair, going "shhh, Dean, s'gonna be okay", even though the both of them knew it wasn't. Sam had asked Dean to go with him, and John had warned him not to, and Dean was torn and he cried, he cried harder than he ever had in front of his little brother. He cried so hard into Sam's shirt, and Sam kissed his head and "shhh, shhh, sweetheart" came out of his mouth so many times, but he could tell it was doing absolutely nothing. He knew Dean wouldn't get into the car, because if he did, neither of them would ever have their father again, and Sam couldn't put that weight on his brother. So, all he could do was breathe slowly in and out, hoping it would encourage Dean to do the same, taking in as much of Dean as he could before it would all be gone from him for maybe the rest of his life.

 

When a young man came bursting into Sam and Jess' flat in the dark 2 years later, they wrestled for a bit, and Sam's panic mode was officially triggered. However, when the man managed to pin him down, the smell of Dean hit him so strongly that a look of pure shock overcame his face. He assumed that Dean would assume that it was because he was surprised to see his big brother... sure he was, but he was more surprised that he would ever get to smell that smell again. It was so familiar, so similar to before that it was like Sam had never left Dean all alone with their father so he could make his way in the world. Alone.

 

The first time Sam crawled into Dean's bed since before he had left for Stanford was a moment Sam was sure he would never forget at the time. The way Dean had held him like no time had passed since he had last had his little brother in his arms; the way Sam relaxed into his touch in the manner he was sure he would never get the opportunity to do again; the way Sam finally managed to feel at peace with the world, with the death of Jess, with his law career he knew deep down was ruined, because he smelled Dean, gently tracing circles into his older brother's bare chest as he drifted off into an easier sleep than anything he had had in years.

 

What seemed to Sam like an eternity later, he was dropping to the muddy ground, the dark surrounding him, a searing pain in his back spreading to his stomach. In that second, the world was cold, despite the warmth of the blood that was freely spilling from his wound, and he couldn't have felt more alone if he tried. The next moment, Dean was grabbing him as his eyes drooped and his head lolled and nothing hurt any more.

The last thing Sam sensed before he died was the smell of Dean.

The only home he'd ever known.


End file.
